Lament of the Empire
by Brievel
Summary: Thren seems like just a typical female tech in the Alliance, eying off the handsome Luke Skywalker and getting her work done. But Thren is under orders, to Turn Luke. Is Luke intrinsically Light, or will she succeed in remolding him? Dark!Luke Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

She wasn't a pretty girl, certainly. With her pale blue skin, steely eyes, shockingly red hair, and the mass of freckles dancing across her over-large nose, it wasn't easy to tell what her species was. It was the opinion of her compatriots that even she wasn't entirely sure of her race. She had come to the Alliance a weak, timid thing, with a story of slavery to some Imperial official. The Alliance, of course, turned no one away, and with her mechanical expertise she soon gained a position as a tech. Quiet, shy, unassuming, wide-eyed, and moderately talented, she blended right in, passing almost unnoticed in the bustle of the hangar.

Just as she wanted.

* * *

The X-Wing lowered to the ground with its customary ease. Not for the first time, Thren admired the rough-and-tumble, hardworking Alliance starfighter, comparing it favorably to its Imperial counterpart. Since arriving at the Rebellion, she had been repeatedly astonished by High Command's collective valuing of its fighters' lives. Of course, she thought cynically, they couldn't afford to be as wasteful as the Empire with their cannonfodder. Rebel and conscript were not heard in the same sentence, whereas drafts were well-known in the galaxy of her birth.

She moved forward with the rest of the techs, shoving the ladders into place for the pilots to descend. All of them were in a jovial mood, and for good cause – she noted that not one fighter had been lost, in this skirmish. A decided victory on the Alliance's part, and one much-needed, for morale and resources both. Smiling and nodding to all the cheers and good-natured ribbing, Thren kept her head down and started on her work, expertly fielding cheerfully accusatory questions of why so quiet. Why not so quiet, she thought to herself as she selected her hydrospanner, she'd had no part in the victory, and no one was including her in the celebrations. Not for the first time, a jab of loneliness, of disillusionment in the camaraderie of the Rebellion, shot through her heart with painful clarity. Always alone, she was always alone, even in a crowd, and had learned the hard way that her input was not welcomed.

Finishing her work with the rest of the ground crew, she slipped away, weaving between covert games of sabacc and more ribald occupations to a little-used hallway and unused storage closet. Sinking to the floor, sitting on her heels, she rubbed her engine-lubricant-covered hands through her tousled hair and waited for her comm signal to go through to the one person in this Force-forsaken galaxy who gave a kriff whether she lived or died


	2. Chapter 2

"Commander Skywalker? I, uh, think you dropped this." She held out a small holocube, all shy awkwardness. Unfailingly kind – one of his greatest faults – Luke Skywalker turned back, glancing at the cube before smiling mildly at her.

"No, Miss, I don't carry those with me," he corrected gently.

She blushed and bit her lip, looking down in abashed confusion. "Oh – I'm so sorry, I could've sworn… well, never mind." She ducked, looking up at him cautiously, head listed just slightly to the side in an unconsciously coy gesture. "Silly of me."

"Not at all," the Rebellion's resident Jedi replied courteously, before adding. "If that's all…?"

"Oh – yes," Thren replied, flustered and unable to think of any other reason to keep him on. After a quick nod, he walked on, leaving her frustrated at her inability to snag his attention for more than thirty seconds. Her assignment was proving harder than she'd anticipated… Tucking the holocube into one of her ubiquitous pockets, she strode rapidly in the opposite direction, forehead lined and wrinkled in thought.

* * *

She bowed her head as the hologram flickered to life. There was a moment of foreboding silence as she felt herself being studied before a voice rasped "My child." Her Master's voice was sans inflection, giving no clues to his mood. She had no way of knowing if he was angry, perturbed, calm, even gleeful. With his next words, her shoulders relaxed – he never permitted such a liberty unless he was in a fairly good mood. "Look at me."

She lifted her head and immediately corrected her former impression. He had a furrow between his brows, an expression that she knew well – it spoke of distraction, at best, sharp irritation to anger at worst. "What is thy desire, Master?" she asked, studying him.

"Intelligence has _finally_ discovered a connection they should've found some time ago." The withering sarcasm was unmistakable, and did nothing to hide the broiling anger he felt from one who knew him well. Her eyes dropped momentarily to his hand as his left fingers twitched, and she tensed slightly at the small tell. But his anger seemed directed at the incompetent idiots he had running his spy network than at her, nor did it appear to have any imminent chance of redirecting. Her gaze returned to his face as he continued, yellow eyes staring off slightly to the side of the pickup. "Namely, a connection between _Luke Skywalker_ -" he spat the name with his customary loathing "-and Princess Organa." His hooded stare returned to her with an intensity that might've been disturbing had she not been returning his look with equal focus. "Your new mission is to destroy Leia Organa utterly. No chance of survival." His lip curled. "Her tendency to escape tight spots is near-legendary. Do not fail me, child."

She bowed her head again, flaring with determination. "I won't, Master," she promised fervently. The hologram winked out and Threnody lifted her head, grey eyes hard as durasteel with resolve. Leia Organa was a dead woman walking.


	3. Chapter 3

Threnody glanced about, checking to make sure no one had seen her little "accident" with the part. In all the commotion that was regular hangar life, one single tech entirely escaped notice, even when involved in a minor wreck with a runaway trolley and a stack of spare parts. She shook her head in minor disgust at the total cluelessness of those surrounding her and strode casually off, ignoring the new grease stains on her coveralls.

* * *

Alarms blaring had her running for the transports along with everyone else. If her first attempt failed, well, it was only collateral damage and there would always be a second chance. With all the fighters already taken off, ready for escort duty, the techs had no reason to stay and every reason to leave. Thren had no desire to stay behind with attacking forces that would have no way to know she was a double agent and wouldn't care if they did.

Jostling into place with the rest of the technicians, she strapped herself into her crash webbing and leaned back, relaxing as best she could. If Leia Organa died as a result of Thren's efforts, well and good, but Threnody was under no illusions that first efforts always worked. Her Master didn't accept failure, but even he had been forced to accept that when he handed out impossible tasks sometimes more than one attempt was needed. Especially if it was necessary for the agent to retain their cover, as it was for Thren. Yes, the Alderaanian princess had to die, but that wasn't Threnody's primary goal, nor had the additional task superseded the original mission.

Thren stared out the viewport absently, only subconsciously noticing the battle outside. Her agile mind was already turning to plans, plots, sub-plots, and back-up schemes, should her current designs fall through. She wasn't interested in failing her Master from lack of trying.

* * *

Luke knew, long before anyone else, that the _Millennium Falcon_ wasn't coming. Day after day, the small open spot in the hangar remained untouched, as all the Alliance hoped the dilapidated ship and her equally scruffy captain would bring their powerhouse princess back to them. But by the second day at the new base, Luke knew they wouldn't be coming. Threnody often watched him stop his path through the ships to stand at the edge of the space left for the _Falcon_ to stare desolately into a spot that would never be filled, and knew her first attempt had worked. After the first week, everyone else had started to give up, too. Only a few members of High Command held out – and in Hangar Bay 9, the spot remained, waiting for the late princess and her escort.

Thren paused, slowly lowering the box of cogs she was carrying to a convenient nearby table, and went over to the lone figure in the gap. Skywalker sat at the edge of the gap, gazing blankly into the space as though waiting, despite knowing they weren't coming. Threnody slowly settled crosslegged beside him on the cold duracrete floor, resting her hand gently on his back. "They wouldn't want you to mourn them," she said softly, watching his face even as he continued staring out into space. "They'd want you to make their sacrifice mean something. They'd want you to bring peace to the galaxy, so no one else would have to feel like this."

Luke finally replied, voice dull and lifeless. "They'd want me to keep fighting, to restore justice."

"Well, yes." Thren sighed, absently rubbing little soothing circles on Luke's back. "But the sooner this whole blasted war is over, the better. It's so..." She paused and shook her head, blankly staring off into space now herself. "It's just dragging on forever. Why can't it just be finished off?"

Skywalker finally gave her his attention, studying her face. "You sound like an Imperial," he pointed out, tone curiously empty of any emotion.

Threnody blinked before looking down, startled, alarmed, and angry with herself, emotions she all quickly suppressed lest the Jedi should pick up on them. "I didn't mean it like that," she murmured. "It's just sometimes hard to shake off what you've known your whole life."

Luke examined her, his features softening. "You were raised by the Imperial official, then?"

Threnody froze a second, biting her lip, weighing her options. She knew too well the dangers of lying to a Force-wielder, but telling the truth was equally perilous. She vacillated before making a split-second, highly risky decision that, if all went well, could have a massive payoff, and if it went bad – well, she probably wouldn't be around any more for her Master _to_ punish. "While I didn't straight-up lie, I didn't tell the full truth when I came here," she confessed softly. "My master was, while an Imperial official, as high as one could get – he was Emperor Palpatine himself. He had me trained as one of his agents, to do his bidding." Her voice was heavy with bitterness as she spoke. "That's the reason I joined the Rebellion; not to re-found the Republic – for all I know it was as corrupt as the Empire paints it – but to kill the Emperor. For all it's not a stated goal of the Alliance, the Empire will never fall if he lives."

"He trained you to be a loyal agent, but you still came to us?" Luke asked cautiously. He had good cause to be suspicious, Threnody knew, and she would have to tread very carefully to allay that mistrust, very carefully. It was time to employ all the manipulation her Master had taught her.

"Of course I'm not loyal," she answered back, voice brittle. "I wasn't lying when I said I was his slave. He killed my mother before I ever met her, tortured me, crafted me into no more than a tool to do his will."

"Your mother..." Luke repeated softly. "And your father?" She shrugged, and he winced. Growing up on Tatooine, he knew too well the plight of female slaves, and his horror and pity for Thren grew. "Did Palpatine ever… you know..." He gestured to her, unable to put it into words.

She gave him a startled look, before her face relaxed into a faint smirk. "No, I wasn't exactly his type. Alien, you know. I mean, how he is about aliens..."

Luke nodded. The whole galaxy knew how Palpatine, and by extension the Empire, was about aliens. But if her mother had had a different master, or had been lent out to a less discriminatory guest… that would certainly account for Thren's near-human looks, mannerisms, and requirements. But… "Why didn't you tell the truth?"

She gave a twisted smile. "Well, I did… from a certain point of view." She noted his suppressed wince from the corner of her eye with distinct interest, but pursued her explanation. "Besides, would you ever have let me in if I said I was one of his agents?" She tensed a little in apparent misery, hunching. "It's not like I even have any information to share. He would've changed my codes immediately when he found out I went rogue – and he finds out everything, immediately – nor do I even have layouts. It's not like I was ever permitted anywhere important, just my training rooms – and when I was sent out, I never saw the way out. It's not like I was Vader, the visible face of the Empire – I operated in secret and was kept in secret. He's probably got other agents, in between me and his chief enforcer – all those trainers couldn't have been for just me – but I never saw or heard of anyone else." Thren shrugged, carefully dejected and defeated. "I figured it was better to not say anything about it and just keep it generic."

"But – your talents, you could've helped the Alliance so much," Luke protested instinctively.

"Not after I was tortured into a mindless, babbling vegetable," she pointed out pithily. Luke turned a reproachful frown on her.

"Surely you know the Alliance would never do that," he reproved, vaguely offended.

"Well, now, yeah," Threnody agreed. "I didn't then. I was always told quite the opposite."

"Well why didn't you tell someone once you realized we don't do torture?" he wondered, and she turned to him with a small smile.

"I did," she pointed out, and his eyes widened in realization. She continued before he could say anything else, though. "But I really felt that what dubious talents I may have weren't really worth the hassle of drawing all that attention. I mean, I get it, now that you know, you have to tell High Command. I just didn't want all that hassle..." Her voice trailed off glumly.

Luke nodded in understanding. "How about I just tell Lei-" He froze mid-sentence, his face glazing with anguish. Impulsively, Thren put both arms around him and drew his head down onto her shoulder as the first racking sob escaped him.

* * *

"Well? Oh, look at me, child." Her Master's demanding, impatient, exasperated voice cut across her back like a whip. Threnody lifted her head, employing all her schooling to keep her face expressionless, fighting the urge to bite her lip in anticipation.

"I've made progress, Master," she reported with satisfaction. "We spoke at length last night," she paused and smirked maliciously, "seeing as I'm the only one who believed him when he first said that annoyance Organa was dead." She paused, curious as to the "connection" that had gotten the Alderaanian princess killed and immediately clued in the Rebellion's star pilot to the interfering woman's death, but her Master didn't address the subject. In fact, he looked annoyed.

"Yes, _she_ is," he agreed caustically, then continued with evident anger, "but you were under no orders to take out Solo yet! He could have proven useful in the future."

Threnody bowed her head in submission, but the reproof stung, enough to prompt her on to a small recklessness. "I know, Master, but they were practically joined at the hip, and opportunities to destroy the princess were so few – aahh!" She gasped in agony as fiery talons seized her mind. The hologram of her Master leaned forward, eyes glowing bright amber in rage.

"How dare you!" he hissed in fury, as she gasped and squirmed. "How dare you speak to me so!"

"I'm sorry!" she cried in anguish, clutching her head. The attack only intensified, the red-hot claws digging deeper.

"No you're not," he spat, watching her writhe with evil satisfaction.

"I'm sorry, I spoke out of turn," the girl sobbed, cringing and wincing in pain.

A dark chuckle erupted out of him and he sat back, even as the attack lessened and faded away. "Only because you displeased me. Oh, look at me, child." Threnody lifted her tear-stained face to the comm output. Her Master had never minded expressions of pain – in fact, he thrived on them – and they had always communicated better when they could maintain eye contact. He smiled indulgently down at her. "You always were willful and headstrong. Well." He sighed deeply, eyes narrowing in thought. "This too can still be used to our advantage. Does Skywalker still have close friends among the Rebels?"

"Yes." Threnody sniffed quickly, once, trying to keep it to a bare minimum. "His fighter squadron, and his droid."

"His _droid_ ," the Sith Lord scoffed. The kneeling girl shrugged.

"He has a weakness for mechanical objects," she replied dispassionately.

"He truly is Vader's son," he mused. "Perhaps that is a weakness that can be used."

"It's a strength when he does his own ship repair," Thren replied sourly. "Makes sabotage impossible."

Her Master frowned repressively. "Killing Skywalker is not your aim, child," he reminded sternly. "Turn him, and then we will continue with our plans."

Threnody smiled slyly. "Killing wasn't my aim, Master, just… maybe a mild injury. No one said it had to be _serious_ sabotage..."

* * *

 **AN: Wow, I don't think I've ever written a character this odious, not even the primary villain/s from my original story. Apologies for any typos/mistakes, I've written this all in one sitting and I'm too sick of Threnody to go re-read about her.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

After the deaths of Han Solo and Princess Leia, Luke Skywalker became more and more reclusive, avoiding the company of his former friends among the pilots and ground crew. Though as capable a leader as always, he slowly grew distanced from his squadron, seeking solitude among the starfighters and droids. But slowly, he began to be seen with someone again, although it was less that he was keeping Thren's company than that she was keeping his. Just as Han and Leia had been there for the young Jedi after his aunt and uncle's deaths, Threnody made sure she was there for him after his best friends'. Ever mindful of her goal, she sought to take his broken spirit and remake it to fit her will.

"Nobody would blame you for wanting revenge, Luke," she said quietly, fidgeting with a washer as she watched him tighten a fastening.

"I'm a Jedi, we don't do revenge," he replied automatically, grasping for the hydrospanner. Thren lifted it, handing it to him.

"I hear that the old Jedi didn't go in for attachments, either," she pointed out. "C'mon, Luke, everyone here is here because the Empire hurt them somehow. Is it so wrong to want justice? Isn't that why we're fighting?"

He emerged from the innards of his starfighter, wiping his greasy hands down his pants and wearing a slight frown at her logic. "It's not justice to go out killing at random."

Threnody shrugged. "Maybe not for Captain Solo and Princess Leia, but for someone it is. Nobody in the Imperial military has clean hands."

"Nobody?" Skywalker echoed skeptically.

Threnody suppressed an internal wince, realizing she'd actually achieved the opposite of what she'd intended. Drawing on a veil of sour, sad cynicism, she replied lowly, "Not that I ever met." Luke's face softened and she relaxed, burying her smugness at transferring his sympathy from the nameless, faceless Imperial soldiers to herself. Threnody decided to press her advantage while she had it. "This is war, against an intolerable tyranny. Revenge can only be an asset here. If you care at all about the lives of your friends, if any of us do, is it not our duty to avenge them?" _Make it personal_ , one of her Master's lessons repeated in her head, _but not to the point where they balk_. _Impress your will on them as their duty, but also as everyone's duty. Bend the universe to your desire._

Threnody watched as the tortured young Jedi bent his head and studied his hands, conflicted. Reaching out, she pressed a comforting hand to his shoulder. "Just think about what I've said, okay?" she asked softly, and gave a tiny triumphant smile when, after a moment, he nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

The first kiss was blindingly sweet. Thren pulled back for air, staring hungrily into the startled blue eyes so close to hers, smiling as she saw her own hunger start to be reflected there. _Lust is of the Dark Side_ , her Master had said. _Use it_. As she pressed her mouth to his, feeling his fingers tangle in her hair, as her legs wrapped around his waist and they fell back onto the bed, she gladly obeyed.

* * *

"The Jedi of old would've called that wrong," she murmured, staring up into his eyes. He turned his head away, guilty.

"We shouldn't have done that."

Thren drew back, stung. "Why not? Was it so bad?"

"Of course not." Luke turned back to her, eyes swimming with apology. "But – Thren – I can't lose you, too, not like… Han and Leia..." His gaze went distant with pain, and Thren instinctively reached up, rubbing his back.

"You're not going to lose me," she crooned softly. "Luke – they weren't right about everything. They said no attachments, no friends – but it's friends that lend us the strength to work past devastating loss. They were wrong about so much – what makes you think they were right about everything? What makes you think they would be right about us?"

The young Jedi stared at her, torn, tempted. She sat up as well, wrapping her arms around him and kissing the top of his head. "Think about it," she whispered into his hair, breathing deeply of his scent. "You know where to find me if you want." Slipping off the bunk, she quickly attired and, wraith-like, vanished from the room.

* * *

 **I think what makes Threnody so vile is how she _acts_ like she loves Luke, when it's all deception. She behaves like I do when I'm letting my husband know I love him, but on her part it's all calculated.**


	6. Chapter 6

She was not surprised when she felt his lips on her neck and his arms wrapping around her from behind. Unable to keep the smile from her face, she turned, capturing his lips with hers, whispering, "I knew you'd soon see what's reasonable."

His voice was low and husky, either with desire or tears – possibly both, and wouldn't that be lovely? "I want you. Whether it's right for a Jedi or not..." His farmboy arms crushed her to him, totally annihilating her breath, but exhilaration kept her steady. Wiggling slightly, she managed to take a sip of air, enough to keep her conscious, before bending her head to feather a kiss on his neck.

"You have me," she whispered, and was rewarded by a shiver from her breath ghosting across his neck. His arms tightened about again, holding her close as though he'd never let her go. "Give in to your passion, Luke, it's not wrong. It's not wrong to love."

He turned his head into her neck, nodding, murmuring, "I know. I am."

Threnody smiled.

* * *

"Report, child."

Threnody didn't bother to try and hide her satisfaction. "It's going well, Master. Skywalker is giving in to his passions, he and I are in a significant romantic relationship."

"About time," her Master spat. "You're taking forever, child. Do not forget, I have other agents who can take over this task should it prove too _difficult_ for you."

Threnody bristled at the insult, snapping back, "I am more than capable, more capable than any of them! It is _me_ he knows and trusts, there is no need to replace me on this job!"

He gave a hiss of displeasure, leaning forward and glaring at her through slitted eyes. "You _**dare**_ , child? You _dare_ tell _me_ what is needed?" Threnody fell to the floor, grasping her head as she writhed, moaning in pain, not daring to scream lest someone hear and come and she be discovered. Her Master continued to rant, livid. " _Insolent_ child, you have grown far too proud, your impudent tongue far outstrips any puny skills you may have. You think you are important enough to me to spare? You are _sadly_ mistaken, little girl, _no one_ is important to me and certainly not you. Your _mother_ certainly wasn't important enough for me to spare, once she had given me what I wanted, and she gave me more years of service than you have been alive. What, _what_ could _possibly_ make you think that you alone could ever escape my wrath? My greatest servant I discipline for the smallest infraction. I have indulged you far too much, and you have become haughty because of it. It is _high_ time I show you who, here, is the Master."

"Please," the girl sobbed, thrashing about on the floor, in dreadful terror of what she knew she couldn't forestall, unable to stop herself from trying. "Please, Master, please, I'm sorry, I know you're Master, I won't do it again-"

"Save your breath, brat, this lesson is long overdue. Each word you speak will only prolong your agony by that much more." He leaned forward, grinning in evil anticipation as, overcome by pain and unable to stop herself, Threnody began to scream.

* * *

Though he'd never said anything, Thren knew Skywalker knew she was Force-sensitive. She'd felt him exploring her shields, but had tacitly refused to let them down, and he'd never pushed the issue. As a result, he'd never really felt her Force presence before, and consequently shouldn't have been able to recognize her. But mere moments after the intense torture had ended and her Master had disconnected the holocall with a curt "I expect better results and sooner, child," Luke had burst through the door, eyes wide.

She sat in the middle of the floor, disheveled, tear-stained, her face a blotchy red even less attractive than usual owing to her complexion, and stared at him bleakly. "He's after me, Luke, he wants me to _hurt_ ," she murmured, voice lost and broken. He dropped down beside her, pulling her close in a hug, and she burrowed into his arms, seeking comfort.

"He won't get you, Thren," he murmured, rubbing his chin on her head before pressing his cheek against her jarringly vibrant hair. "Not on my watch."

She pulled back a little, looking up at her lover, eyes hard and blazing with fierce hatred for the man with whose permission she had been born. "Come with me," she whispered. "Come with me, Luke, to Coruscant, help me kill him, help me end this war. Together we can destroy him, him and Vader too, if you want. Help me end this, all of this."

The young Jedi looked down at her soberly. "Thren… I can't kill Vader. He – I… he's my… my father."

Thren nodded in understanding, lacking any judgment. "I didn't know if you wanted him dead anyway. If not, of course, we don't have to take him on."

Luke looked at her in astonishment. "You knew?"

She looked back at him blankly. "Of course, I knew. Palpatine always knew, from the moment he found out the name of the pilot who destroyed his precious Death Star. And so of course I knew too – it was after he found out that I left him – but seeing who raised _me_ , who was I to judge? We can't help our parentage, you can't help that Vader's your father any more than I can help that my mother was an alien. And if you feel some blood tie to him, well," she shrugged, "I have to admit that if he was my father I'd feel no compunction whatsoever about shooting him straight through the heart, but he's not my father, he's yours, so it's your decision."

"...oh." Luke continued staring at her before pulling her close to his heart. "I didn't know you knew."

She snuggled against him again, enjoying his warmth and the comfort of his arms, his proximity, relishing the irony of her plans and his part in them. Her tone was light, reasonable, even conversational, with just a hint of compassion. "I didn't want to mention it, if you didn't know, I would rather spare you _that_ burden."

He kissed the top of her head, murmuring, "You have a good heart, Thren."

Threnody almost laughed, but checked herself in time, looking up at him instead. "So… will you? Come with me and help kill Palpatine? His death would do so much to bring an end to this conflict. No more deaths..."

"High Command would never permit it," Skywalker said reluctantly, absently rubbing circles on her back. Threnody put forth all her powers of persuasion, barring mind tricks. Those didn't work on Jedi.

"Then… we go AWOL. Just briefly. I can't see them punishing us too harshly once we kill that tyrant," she coaxed. "I know they wouldn't let us leave, but they couldn't. But we'll never win unless he's dead, and Luke…" She paused, hoping, praying, _willing_ her next words to sway him. "He's after me, I have to leave anyway. He knows where I am, and as long as I'm here, I'm a danger to everyone." She let the sincerity of her last sentence ring true, hoping it would cover the slight lie at the beginning. The boy Jedi studied her a long time, looking perturbed, until she began to wonder if he'd picked up on the untruth after all. Deciding a diversion was in order, she opened her mouth to again plead with him to run away with her, but he beat her to the punch.

"Yes."

She stopped, mouth half-opened, caught off guard. "I – what?"

"Yes," he repeated. "Yes, I'll come with you, yes, I'll help you kill him. You're right, he's evil and powerful, he has to go." As he pulled her close again, she heard him add under his breath, "I can't lose you too. I can't lose someone else, again." Threnody curled against him, tucking her head under his chin, and smiled.

* * *

 **What do you think, should I change this to an M rating? I've never done Dark!Luke before, and it's been awhile since I've written pure-evil!Palpatine, and I've been reading "mature" stories recently... am I overdoing it?  
**


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm bringing you a gift, Master," she murmured, a Force tendril out to ensure Skywalker was still asleep. "He is ripe for the Turning, but you alone have the skill."

"On what pretext do you bring him?" Her Master's ochre eyes narrowed suspiciously, and Threnody smiled.

"Oh, he thinks he's coming to kill you. Don't worry, his skills are no match for yours. He is as arrogant as his father."

Teeth as yellow as his eyes showed in a slash of a grin. "I'm not worried, child."

* * *

She wasn't expecting it, but she wasn't surprised, either, when her Master's red saber slashed across her in a painful wound to cause Skywalker's fury and fear to heighten. It was her actions that were both unexpected and surprising – to her Master, at least. For her, at a crucial moment, to slam into his arm, knocking aside his parry and leaving him open to Skywalker's thrust, was unthinkable. For one of his agents to betray him was inconceivable. She wasn't Vader, she wasn't Sith – she should be loyal to the end.

But Threnody wasn't loyal at all. With both hands removed, the Emperor was in shock, unable to either wield a saber or project lightning. Threnody pressed on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees in front of her, before Luke. "All hail the new Emperor and Empress, _Master_ ," she hissed venomously, before looking up with flaming yellow eyes. "Kill him, Luke, for all he's done to us, kill him!"

The young man stood over his defeated enemy, held in place by his lover, coldly looking down. Calling the fallen red saber to his flesh-and-blood left hand, he position the two lightsabers like scissors, ready to snip off the Sith Lord's life thread. Golden eyes widened in horror and dark recognition as from over the ancient head a voice crooned. "Yes, good, Skywalker, kill him. Kill him now..."

He didn't even have time to speak.

As they stood over the body of their fallen enemy, she leaned forward and kissed Luke – slowly, passionately. She pulled back to stare up at him coyly, murmuring suggestively. "Name yourself Emperor, Luke. Bring this conflict to a resolution. Marry me, name me your wife and consort. Hold the power that is yours by birthright, together, we will rule, for the galaxy lies in the palm of your hand."

He looked down at her, not a hint of the former blue of his eyes left among the yellow. Deactivating the sabers, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers again, whispering against them. "Yes."

* * *

Alliance High Command was badly shaken at Commander Skywalker's desertion, even more so at his subsequent declaration of himself as Emperor. However, they celebrated the public execution of Darth Vader and the majority of the former Imperial Ruling Council. They were still celebrating when the Star Dreadnoughts dropped out of hyperspace right on them and blasted them into oblivion.

* * *

Emperor Skywalker stood gazing out upon his city-planet. His wife, he knew, was at her former Master's tomb, mocking paying respects. A mirthless smile curled his lips. He well knew the blood running through her veins – it was unmistakable, that Force presence that she no longer hid – she deemed herself his equal, but how wrong she was. Skywalker blood was and always would be strongest, and while at least his child's power wouldn't be diluted by the weakness of a non-sensitive, as his had been, the puny woman came nowhere near his own power. Her father… yes, he had close to Skywalker-level power, but Threnody's alien mother, while no doubt sensitive (he doubted her father would bother to keep alive the child of a non-sensitive mother) had nowhere near the raw energy at his own fingertips.

The Emperor held his left hand up before his face, watching the blue sparks spitting and dancing there. His cold smile grew as he envisioned the child that his consort, all unwittingly, even now grew inside herself. Yes, the Skywalker dynasty would continue, paired with, lacking as they were, the other most powerful Force-sensitive bloodline to be found.

* * *

The dried dead flowers rustled in the grim breeze dusting dryly over the cold marble tombstone. Threnody smiled cruelly down at the slab, murmuring conversationally to it. "You taught me too well, Master. Surely you knew that though I could never be your equal, I would seek to supplant you. It is your heritage. If I could not do it myself – as you ensured before you allowed me to live – I would fashion a tool to do it for me. A tool to which you sent me." Her smirk widened. "Some would call that justice, Master. They say the Force has a sense of humor. But then, you always discounted those weaker than yourself, didn't you? And I certainly always was. But between my knowledge of your lessons, and the powerful instrument you sent me to wield, your defeat was inevitable."

She stood, placing another bouquet of dead flowers in the appropriate slot. "All hail the Emperor of dust and decay. So many you sent to death, Master. How does it feel?" The Empress Consort stood, studying the tomb of her former Master another moment before smiling contemptuously and turning away in dismissal, picking her way through the somber stones and exiting.

* * *

 **Well, this is it. Only an epilogue left to go and this whole morbid dreadful thing will be all wrapped up. But at least I can say I've written Dark!Luke. I'll probably post the epilogue tomorrow, it's already written but I can't finish it entirely in one day, can I?  
**


	8. Epilogue

"Luke-" She arched, gasping in anguish, before reaching out an imploring hand to her husband. "Help me, save me, please!"

"Why? I don't need you anymore, I have the child." He turned to smile down at the screaming baby, a cold, cruel smile. "You're obsolete, Threnody."

"No..." She gave a sobbing whimper, stricken and in disbelief. "Luke, _please_..."

He turned away contemptuously, taking the now-wrapped baby from the silent midwife, not even looking at his wife as he addressed her. "Go ahead and die already, woman."

Darkness began gathering at the edge of her vision, and she cursed her father who hadn't bothered to pass on to his only child the secrets of immortality he'd been researching. Gathering the last vestiges of her strength and all the Dark Side could loan her, Threnody half-sat up, screaming at her husband's departing back, " _ **I HATE YOU!**_ " The black obscuring her sight spread ever further, and the former Empress Consort fell back with a final weak gasp.

* * *

 **Legend has it, that Sly Moore died bearing Palpatine's offspring... for a galaxy where dying in childbirth "doesn't happen anymore," it sure seems to be common, huh?  
**

 **I despise Threnody far too much to give her a happy ending. Of course, the galaxy will suffer too, the way I'm leaving this, but hey, sacrifices have to be made, eh?**


End file.
